Hand in Hand
by A.Boleyn
Summary: DL one shot, post episode 318. There is a connection between them that will never be broken.


Just my take on the in-between moments of "Sleight out of Hand". Special thanks to **Elainhe** for her comments and listening ear at all times. This is for all of you D/L shippers out there, who have stuck with the ship in stormy moments. We are canon, and no one can take that from us.

**Disclaimer: ** I lay claim to nothing other than the story. Danny and Lindsay are not my creation - just my obsession.

* * *

**Hand in Hand**

"_Thanks, Stell. Say 'hi' to everyone for me." _

_Hearing her voice, with the busy sounds of the crime lab in the background, was familiar and comforting. For a moment, it transported me back to New York. My home. _

_I wanted to add, "Tell Danny I miss him," but something stopped me. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing Katums's leering face as it disappeared into the courtroom. I stood there, dumbfounded, the sight of him having knocked the wind from me, sending me back ten years. And yet, a sense of power crept over me; the power of taking his fate in my hands. Finally._

----

Now, as I sit here on the stand, I think back to that conversation with Stella. I think of the things I said to her, the things I hadn't said to Danny when I had the chance. And as I remember my teenage friends, more unsaid words regretfully hammer my brain. So many missed opportunities that slipped right through my fingers.

I've been here before, on this stand. After one particularly busy month for the Bozeman PD, I had joked to my colleagues that I wanted my name engraved on the chair. When I left Montana in the Fall of 2005, I never imagined I'd be returning to this very spot, and especially never for this reason. It was a cold case, with little hope of being solved. I thought I was okay with that, since it had been ten years. I thought I had moved on with no ill-effects. I was wrong.

The jury is staring at me, their noses twitching curiously like rabbits. The faces of the parents are hard to read, but it doesn't stop me from trying to guess. Do they resent me for still being alive, instead of their daughters? Are they hopeful I can bring them some sort of judicial closure, even though true closure is not possible with a loss like that? Are they angry that I hid in the bathroom, instead of trying to save my friends? _Could_ I have saved my friends? At least these questions keep me distracted as I speak, so I am not focusing on Katums's face. He is lounging in his chair, tipping it back on its hind legs, sharing a secret snicker with his counsel every so often. He's relaxed, thinking he is in control… but he is not. This time, I'm the one in control, and I intend to squeeze the life out of this chance to finally defeat him.

Foolishly, I think I will speak easily, staring him down as I sit tall and talk him straight into a prison cell. Yet the more I remember, the more I begin to falter. I have not talked this much about the murders since the night they happened. God help me, I'm going to cry. _Don't let him see you cry,_ my mind screams. But it's too late. I berate myself for losing it, but I know I can't continue like this.

"I'm sorry, I… Can we stop?"

--------------------

_Since court was adjourned, the rest of my day was spent holed up in the hotel room that had become my temporary home. The DA's office was paying for it, and it was larger than my apartment back in New York. The bedroom contained two double beds and French doors that led to a small balcony. The bathroom had a whirlpool tub, and a sitting room with a futon and a cherry dining set completed the extravagance. My family wasn't around here anymore, they had sent their best via emails or phone messages earlier in the week. I felt so alone, craving the constant human suffocation that is the city. I missed Danny even more than I could have possibly imagined, so much that it caused my chest to constrict and ache. Nothing mattered more to me than seeing him again. I had been bargaining with myself for weeks: if I could just get through this, then I could set my hungry eyes on him again._

_Food had lost its appeal lately, so I robotically brewed another pot of coffee. As I waited for it to finish, I looked out the kitchenette window at my hometown below. The sky was overcast, the fields murky, dotted with red and white jerseys from the high school soccer team practicing a few hundred yards away. Pickup trucks waited in line at the loading dock for fertilizer and hog feed and sawdust. In his car, an elderly man sat reading a book and eating a sandwich. This was life in Bozeman, but this was not my life anymore._

_--------------------_

And now I'm back in court, speaking of the most terrifying night of my life. Memories like these should be stored aware somewhere deep inside of us, only called out in a private moment where courage is needed: as in, "If I survived _this_, then…". Instead, here I am telling the jury and the attorneys and the audience and the press. I'm telling the man who did this to me, to us. I try to remember it as if that terrified girl was someone else—not me. But I can still hear the faucet running, the gunshots, the screams.

When the courtroom door begins to creak open, no one seems to notice. It wasn't unusual, after all--people were often showing up late or leaving for restroom breaks. This time, I do notice. Before I even see him, I am invaded with a sense that my whole world is about to change.

Danny.

Here in Montana.

Here.

When our eyes lock, I can't speak or breathe. A million memories and thoughts and lights go off in my head. Then suddenly, I know I can do this. Everything will be fine. My future is waiting: this is how it's going to be.

------------------

_Danny had tried to reason with me. "__You saw that place, it was a slaughterhouse in there."_

"_What, you think I haven't seen blood like that before?"__ I snapped, grouchy that Mac had sent me back to the lab when I wanted to stay out in the field._

""_I don't know, to tell you the truth. Have you?" Danny asked, looking at me intently._

"_Yes," I conceded with a huff. "And a lot more than that."_

_He looked curious, inviting elaboration, but I remained mute._You don't know_, I wanted to tell him, _you'll never know.

------------------

Never did I want him to see me like this.

I'm starting to cry again as I remember the blood. From that night, the blood is what I remember: not their faces, not the odd angles at which their bodies were lying, not their lifeless eyes. I remember the blood. I wish the tears running down my face now could somehow wash the blood from my memory, flushing away all the terror with it.

For a moment, my confidence wanes, and I wonder If I can really do this. Then I meet Danny's eye. He nods his head, a movement so slight it's almost undetectable. He's telling me to keep going, he knows I can do this—because I _can_ do this. I steel myself and continue.

I point out Katums, describing him by his clothes, and burning him with my glare. After I speak of watching the coroner put my friends in body bags, and listening to the primal screams of their mothers at the crime scene, the DA finishes his questioning.

"The witness is excused." The judge nods curtly, dismissing me.

I stand up, legs numb from the hard wooden bench, and tediously make my way past the spectators. Many are dabbing at their eyes with tissues and sniffling. I look pointedly at Danny. _"This was why,"_ I think. _"This is why it had to be so hard."_ Now he knows. It occurs to me that I have shared more with him today through my eyes than I ever have in conversation.

I don't wait for him, I trust that he will follow me, and his footsteps behind me confirm that belief. I don't stop walking until I'm halfway down the corridor, where I stop and turn sharply, causing him to bump into me. The long hall is gray, silent and hollow.

All I need is to touch him.

"It's you," is all I can say, running my fingers over his face in sheer wonder. The meeting of bristly hair and smooth skin is marvelous. Like a wish, he had appeared in that room, and now his strong arms are wrapped around me. God, how did he know how much I needed this? I lean against him, allowing his body to take up the slack and support my weakness. I can't stop touching his face.

"It's really you," I mumble again, my face buried in his neck. I say his name over and over, like a mantra, trying to convince myself it is true, that he has come for me. "Danny. Danny."

"It's me," he croaks, rocking me back and forth slightly.

"I need you," I whisper, starting to cry a little. I'm in shock.

"You got me," he replies. His eyes have dark circles beneath them, he looks exhausted. And stunningly beautiful.

We are still standing like this as droves of people being filing out of the courtroom on their way to lunch. I wipe my eyes as I watch them, my head resting against his chest.

"You did great," Danny says reassuringly, even proudly. "You did your part."

"I don't know. But… thanks," I sigh. "It's up to the jury now."

Katums is the last to leave the courtroom, lead out by two uniformed officers. Despite the evidence that has piled up against him, his swagger is cocky and confident. Danny stiffens and tries to draw me closer to him, but I pull away.

"I need air," I gasp. "Let's go for a walk."

----------------------------

_We just walked. We traveled the streets of town, with no destination in mind. And we talked: he told me about his sudden decision to come to Montana, some unexplainable force drawing him across the country. I felt bad when I found out he hadn't slept, with the exception of a few fitful naps on the plane. Something had pulled him to me like a magnet. There, on the bumpy sidewalk with the mountains looming overhead, it dawned on me: he had received the message I never sent._

_Eventually we sat down, on a stone bench outside of the Bozeman public library. Though it was not very cold for a winter day in Montana, we sat huddled close together; not so much for the need of body heat, but comfort._

_I didn't know how much time had passed when my cell phone rang, causing me to jump. I saw the prosecutor's name on the display, and glanced at Danny with a mixture of terror and relief._

"_This is it," I gulped, flipping open my phone. "Hello?"_

"_Miss Monroe? We've got a verdict. Court will reconvene in half an hour for the reading."_

_Danny and I were back in the courtroom in ten minutes, and found a spot in the last row among family members, media, and nosy citizens. For every agonizing minute--the longest twenty minutes of my life--Danny was right there beside me. I knew in my heart that no matter what the outcome would be for Katums, my life was going to continue, no more haunted by his shadow._

_When the jury forewoman stood, Danny cast a glance my way, and I instinctively reached for his hand. The instant our skin touched, the only thought that could form in my mind was how well our fingers molded together, how easily, how natural. So many months had passed since that afternoon he had grasped my hand on the street, and our hands were _still_ a perfect fit._

_And when that glorious word "guilty" rang through the courtroom, I surrendered Katums, my friends, and the bloody visions all to my memory, where they were meant to stay, locked up forever. _

_And what mattered now? I had to know if my lips and Danny's would fit together as exquisitely as our hands had._

_We were interrupted before I could find out._

_-----------------------------------_

I'm trying not to laugh as Danny drags me past the bevy of media hounds, but I can't help it: I'm giggling childishly. "Danny, where are we going?" I shout so that my query isn't drowned out by the calls of my name and random questions from the press.

He grins as we dart and dodge bodies, agile as barrel-racing steeds. "What's it look like? I'm taking my girl, and getting the hell out of Dodge!"

We run, like two schoolchildren, hands clasped and breathless from exertion and laughter. The press gave up chase, instead pursuing the easier prey of the attorneys. We stumble out the rear entrance of the courthouse into the late afternoon sunshine. I grab his shoulders, he takes his arms and envelopes me in them, greedily possessing me like an octopus' tentacles.

He licks his lips. "So, Montana, you were saying?"

Initially, I am confused. "I didn't say… oh." I feel my cheeks burn, but Danny is not letting this one go. He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"Fine. I'll tell you," I whisper. And with a deep breath, I tilt my head upwards. As soon as my lips meet his – those lips of his I have been craving for so long, and those lips I have kissed in my dreams almost nightly – I am lost. I lose myself in the sacred connection I have formed with this man. I kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, because it feels good, and because it makes me happy. He makes me happy, and I'm finally ready to receive this with a full, open heart.

At last we stop, pulling apart, smiling and staring at each other with the expression of two characters in a Shakespeare play. Euphoria.

I can't stand the lack of contact, so I take his hand again. "Come on, let me buy you dinner," I offer, with a smile that promises much more than just a meal.

---------------------------------

_We stopped first at my hotel so I could change clothes. Smiling shyly, I gestured for Danny to wait downstairs in the lobby._

_Once in the privacy of my room, I slipped on a snug-fitting black shirt with a low neckline, and dabbed a spritz of perfume behind each ear. I smoothed on some nude lipstick, put in the silver hoop earrings I rarely bother to wear, then stood back and smiled at my reflection. I had never really allowed myself to enjoy something like this: going on a date, spending time with a man I really care about. Those sweet feelings were always compounded by the guilt that I was still alive, and my friends would never get to experience it. This time, I felt only satisfaction and excitement. I had so much to look forward to, and I was ready to take it all in. _

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From the moment we set foot in Charlie's Roadhouse, I know Danny feels out of place. I smile up as I watch him study the Stetson-clad patrons. I'm still in shock that he is here beside me, I never could have imagined him setting foot in Montana. In fact, he is here with me: in this dark, countrified restaurant, with heads of various large game animals mounted on the walls, the scent of pipe smoke mingling with barbeque ribs. We sit on the same side of a corner booth, squeezed close together as I order for both of us.

When the waitress leaves us, Danny casually slumps his arm behind my back. "So, what exactly is the house special?" he mumbles in my ear.

"A burger," I reply innocently, twirling my straw in my drink and avoiding his eyes.

"Made of what?"

I continue to feign innocence. "You know: meat, lettuce, bun, mayo…"

"What kind of meat? I want to know I'm chowing down on a cow, and not a mountain goat or something freaky."

"It's elk," I admit with a small laugh. "But you'll like it, I swear."

"I like _this_," he says. "Just here, hanging out with you like this."

"Same here," I admit. I reach across and squeeze his knee—a daring but innocent enough move.

He studies me with an amused smile, and his eyes are twinkling with pleasure. "So, is this our first date?"

I've never seen him so happy, and I feel honored that he is this happy just to be with me. "Well, I guess so. You're getting dinner… and you already got the kiss. I'd say that was a pretty good first date."

"Agreed." He nods, and his face slowly changes from playful to thoughtful. "So, how are you feeling? This was a big day for you."

It's a question that is impossible to answer, but I try my best. "I feel victorious… at peace. _Excited_. I'm just so excited to get back home." Thoughts of the lab and all of our shared adventures makes me extra homesick. "Tell me something funny. What have I been missing in the lab?"

Danny sips on his beer as he contemplates. "Well, there was this one case, where our vic built an ark in his backyard, filled with all these animals. He was convinced a biblical flood was coming, so he charged people all this money to hide out on his boat."

I laugh, forgetting how weird things in New York can be. "No!"

"Yes. And the smell was just unbelievable."

I laugh and roll my eyes, then Danny continues.

"Speaking of unbelievable, you'll never guess who Mac is dating." His voice is low and conspiratorial, but the answer to the riddle is easy for me.

"Dr. Driscoll, the M.E.," I nod. "Peyton and Mac have been together for awhile now."

Danny groans, pressing his hand against his forehead. "I'm the only one who didn't know."

We both laugh, doing what we had craved for so long – basking in each other's company. Yet it had taken so many months, fifteen hundred miles, and countless tears for it to finally happen. Sitting here with him, I know that it's all happening how it should—it has been worth the wait.

After dinner, we walk back to my hotel, hand in hand. It's a form of physical contact I am fast growing accustomed to. Night has settled in Bozeman, a chilly breeze rushing down from the Rocky Mountains, and a coyote howls in the distance. I shiver, not so much from the cold or the spookiness, but from the sheer joy of being here with Danny.

"How much longer are you going to be here?" he asks me.

"Almost a week. Katums's sentencing hearing is in five days, and I am going to speak there." I pause. "How about you? How long can you stay?" Visions of Danny and I playing all over the countryside makes me giddy.

"Only til morning," he says sadly, so soft I can barely hear him. "I already have a flight scheduled." His hand tightens around mine, and we say no more until we reach the hotel lobby.

There, as I head toward the elevator, Danny begins to veer off towards the reception desk.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He looks confused, awkward. "Booking a room."

"Danny, the DA's office put me up in the biggest suite. There are two double beds. There's no need for you to book a separate room."

He stutters, staring at me, hesitant but hopeful. "Uh, okay. Yeah, sure."

Upstairs, I brew us a pot of coffee, which we drink in the sitting room, discussing more bits about cases I have missed. It may seem morbid to laugh about murder, but this was the daily life of a CSI, and a life I dearly missed.

Quiet and unassuming, we later climb into the separate beds, the five feet between us a lonely distance.

---------------------------

_It was not long before I went to him. I knew he was awake, we had both been shifting and turning for nearly an hour. Slivers of moonlight fell in through the blinds, giving just enough light for me to see his silhouette. I slipped out from under the covers and sat on the edge of his bed, pulling back his covers slightly. _

"_Danny," I whispered, tenderly stroking the inside of his forearm._

_He sat up quickly, cupping my face and taking a deep, thirsty kiss. The tips of my nails traversed his chest and back admiringly. Pressed so close against him, no barrier between our bare skin, I felt more alive than I ever thought possible. _

"_I don't ever do this on the first date," I whispered in his ear, sliding down the shoulders of my robe. He kissed my neck before responding._

"_Well, now that I think about it, tonight wasn't technically our first date," he pointed out. "There was that night at Cozy's, and the time we ate insects in the lab…"_

"_Yes," I agreed, reaching under his tank top and stroking his strong abdomen. "So this is really our third date."_

_Danny's voice was hoarse and throaty. "Yeah, at least."_

_With that, he rolled me over onto my back beside him, his fingers dancing a repeating, tortuous trail from my hip to my shoulder._

_And when he at last lowered himself over me, our hands connected, palm to palm, fingers tightly laced. Fused._

------------------------------

I love him. At 2:28 am, I know deep within me that I love the man I am tangled up with.

"Danny." I poke his arm, waiting as he mumbles into his pillow and then opens his eyes.

"What is it?" he asks. "Are you okay?" He moves his face close to mine, leaving us nearly nose-to-nose.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, confused by my sudden apology, and chuckles slightly. I savor the sleepy roughness of his voice. "For what?"

"For everything. I'm sorry about the night I stood you up. I'm sorry I closed myself off when you were trying to help. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye." I'm babbling, and pause to breathe, trying to control myself. "I'm just so, so sorry, Danny. For all of it."

He reaches over and strokes my cheek gingerly, a fond, relaxed smile on his face. " 's okay," he murmurs. I know he means it, but I want him to take this seriously.

"Don't do that. Don't pretend that you weren't hurt."

He frowns, propping himself up on his elbow. "I was hurting because I couldn't help you."

"But still, _I hurt you_, and even if you can forgive me, I may never forgive myself." It's a difficult situation, but I love the intimacy of being so close to him like this, in the silence of the night.

"Hey, hey, hey." He reaches over and takes both my hands, pulling them to his lips and kissing them softly. "That's enough of that. No looking back, Montana." Then presses his cheek to my hands and closes his eyes. "We have so much to look forward to."

"I'm scared," I gulp. "The way I feel about you scares me. But I want it to last forever."

"Forever sounds good to me, too. We can just be scared together."

It makes sense, even if I still can't quite believe it is happening. The darkness of my past is growing fainter and fainter over my shoulder. I will move beyond this, all while holding Danny's hand.

"No looking back," I repeat. And once again, he covers me with his body, a blanket of fever and need enveloping us.

-----------------------------

Morning, of course, comes too fast. Here I stand in the kitchenette, dialing Danny's ride to the airport.

"I didn't know they had cabs in Montana," he calls from the sitting room.

"They don't," I respond, setting down the phone. "But your pack mule will be here in twenty minutes." Despite the joke, a lump forms in my throat and is in danger of strangling me. Keeping my back turned to Danny, I allow a few tears to escape.

I don't fool him. When will I learn this? He comes up behind me and squeezes me into a hug.

"No crying," he reminds me. "This is happy, right? I'll pick you up from the airport in a week, and then… then we can give this 'forever' thing a go."

Crying only a little bit, I laugh and nod and try to sort out why I am feeling sad when my future looks blindingly bright. I am just so ready to begin, hitting the 'pause' button is frustrating.

Danny gives me a smirk, similar to the one I received on the day we met. "Get ready, Linds, because pretty soon, you'll be sick of seeing me so much."

I shake my head. As if that were possible.

-------------------------------

Outside on the sidewalk, we wait for the taxi to show up, awkwardly trying to figure out a way to say our goodbyes. Instead, we just kiss. But as the yellow car pulls to the curb, there is no more avoiding it. The words we exchange are short and brief.

"You're the best thing in my life," Danny whispers in my ear as we hug.

"Same here." I cling to him with all my might.

"I'll call you when I land," he promises.

We reluctantly pull apart, save my right hand and his left, which are still connected. I step back towards the hotel, he moves towards the backseat of the cab. A few more steps, and his fingers slip from my grasp, like a tree releasing its leaves in autumn. But just as those leaves will grow again, I know that for Danny and I, the best is yet to come.

Waving, I watch the cab until it is nothing more than a yellow dot on the horizon. With a sigh, I turn back to the hotel doors. I have several boring days ahead of me, and wonder how I will occupy my time. On the front steps of the hotel, my cell rings, and I smile at the name on display: _Danny_.

"Miss me already?" I ask teasingly.

He doesn't answer the question, but poses one of his own. "Did I ever tell you what a romantic Mac is?"

I'm caught off guard by this. "Uh, no."

"He really is. I know he's a hard ass sometimes, but he can be really understanding… and damn, a sucker for love."

"What are you getting at, Danny?" I ask. He sounds so happy, and suspiciously so.

Over the course of the conversation, I have failed to notice the motor of an approaching vehicle.

A taxi.

My jaw drops as Danny climbs out, phone still pressed to his ear. We just stare at each other as we talk.

"So, I told Mac about our predicament here, and it turns out, the lab is overstaffed this week anyway."

"You told him about us?" I'm so stunned, I can't even notice the ridiculousness of us still on our cell phones while standing only yards apart.

"Oh, Montana, he already knew. He said to have fun, and he'll see us in a week." With quick strides, Danny is rapidly closing the distance between us.

"You're staying!" I gasp in delight, watching the taxi pull away, leaving us alone.

"Well, there is one problem: I'm out of clothes," he muses. The space between us has dwindled to a few feet. "You might have to take me shopping."

"Or maybe just find things to do without clothes?" I suggest with a shrug. That thought was the last straw--we both hang up and run toward each other.

Danny reaches me, scooping me up. It's obvious that his arms—in Montana or New York--are where I belong. Once again, I am shocked by his sudden appearance, and grateful at the same time. The songs and poems and plays and books and movies about love? This is what they were talking about.

"What made you come back?" I ask, still drinking him in with my eyes.

He shrugs, an impish grin of helpless impulse crossing his face. "I couldn't wait. That 'forever' thing, I'm ready for it to start. Not in a week. Now."

I take his hand, leading him back up the pathway to the hotel. "Forever, huh? I think I can handle that." Like the proverbial, big Montana sky, my future with Danny is bright and limitless.

"Ready? Set? _Go_."

* * *

Fin. 


End file.
